


The Amber Glow of Home

by RandomGuygoesviral



Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Angst, Character Death, Cryptozoology, F/F, F/M, Found Family, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Minor Character Death, Original Character Death(s), Seriously- a lot of important characters won't show up for a while, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Slow Romance, TAZ Amnesty, The Cryptid Fucker squad comes in l a t e, Trans Duck (The Adventure Zone), Worldbuilding, the adventure zone - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-17
Updated: 2018-12-18
Packaged: 2019-09-20 19:40:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17028786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RandomGuygoesviral/pseuds/RandomGuygoesviral
Summary: A world of monsters, magic, and light.Another of just the opposite.One flocks to the other.And lives are lost.One question.“Who?...”





	1. So Far From Home, So close to it Too

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to: is Sai ever going to follow through on writing a full story? Maybe. He’s writing something about an ongoing series that interests him, so let’s see.  
> There are some OC’s n’ stuff, but it’s nothin’ big. I made a ThunderBird, a Flatwood Monster, and a White Thing because they’re all (more or less) West Virginia cryptids. Also Momo as in the Missouri Monster because I’m from Missouri and fuck you, that’s why.

Long forgotten was home, but current residence yielded no new memory. Constant and repeated, a repetitive routine. Something as simple and mundane as running water would be nothing short of a shock. A meal that was more than something from the forest floor, or a view other than vast evergreen.

 

In the most simple terms possible: it was more boring than anything had ever been. 

 

Boring… and a bit more frightening than anyone wanted to admit. Even more so upon the realization that it was lonely. Despite there being more than one person: every single creature present was a refugee. Thrown from their home, abandoned. Tension was unreasonably high, and not a living thing dared trust. Faith was useless as well- as many had gathered. 

There had to be about a dozen of them at that point, forced into the clearing. Stripped from their families, their jobs, their homes. Too many of them were young. Some were children. Government was cruel, forcing them out in such a way. Claiming them to be traitors, when some of them were higher up, themselves. 

 

No one spoke in anything above hushed murmurs for days. Weeks? Despite finding a slight comfort in company, everyone was naturally vindictive. Accompanied yet also completely lonesome.  The silence of the woods, of themselves, was near deafening. So someone had so speak up eventually. 

 

Three of them, who would eventually be some of the most well known of any of them, took on that fate. 

 

Not by name, of course, but well known regardless.

Who were they?

 

Well, for a lack of formality: Bigfoot, MothMan, and the ThunderBird. 

 

\---------------

 

Dawn hung on the horizon, a brilliant display of colour in the sky, as charge began to be taken. It was only right, considering everything. They’d have to stick together, for sure. 

 

A tall man with kind eyes stepped before the edge of the fire. The male fumbled with a cloth for a few moments, tying it around one wrist. Instantaneously, everything about him shifted. It was startling, to say the least. He quickly became something different. Something, oh, what was the word?... Human. Burly, with a bushy beard and those same kind eyes. Everyone flinched back at this, say from two others. 

 

“Well, uh, hey everyone. We’ve been like this for a… good while now. Not talking. I know, believe me, that everything sucks pretty bad at the moment… but we can combat that. Get to know each other… so lets start with names! You can call me Barclay, uh-”

 

Another Sylv quickly stepped forward, a bird-like woman, tall with a brilliant wing span. She was gigantic and intimidating, but she had a collected feel to her. With a soft hum, her large beak seemed to crack down on something metal. She, too, shifted quickly into a more human appearance. Tall, very tall, muscular, with incredibly long wavy blonde hair. The woman’s face was stern, and a copper ring of metal hung from her septum. 

 

“To hop in, my name is Theresa, it’s my pleasure to formally introduce myself,” her voice was pleasant, although calculated. 

 

The final one to step up was instantly recognizable as the court seer. Midnight black fur coated his body, but not his bug-like wings. This made the startling red of his eyes all the more noticable. He, too, slipped an item onto himself, a pair of crimson glasses, transforming as well. He became a rather guant and pale man, hair white while his roots were black. Tall, taller than Barclay, but nowhere near the size of Theresa. 

 

“And,” he started, voice crisp,” as I’m sure many of you are aware… My name is Indrid Cold. It is unfortunate that we are in this situation, but, ah, let me explain. We no longer belong to Sylvain, which frankly,  _ is _ awful… however. In this new world we must: adapt. What you see in the three of us here are disguises. They make us appear as if we were from this place. They call it Earth. To survive here: we must all take on these disguises. Introductions first, I take it.”

 

Barclay nodded in affirmation. The group spent a half hour with introductions after that point due to some people’s hesitance. In the end there ended up being 12 there, including the first three to stand. The names not yet known were quite the variety. Dani, Moira, Flint, Wybie, Jake, Momo, Meghan, Nick, and Nat. Exactly a dozen. 

 

Fortunately, a few of them seemed to know each other already. Nick and Nat happened to be twins, while Jake and Dani were childhood friends (Despite still being young). Momo was actually Barclay’s cousin, even. It made the gradual process a bit more welcoming, in any case.

 

However: then the problem of disguises arrose. Every Sylv there needed one, and supplies were limited. The only three with the ability to hunt for supplies outside the forest already had theirs, thankfully. So while Theresa stayed behind, Indrid and Barclay went on the hunt for any sort of civilization. Evidently the clearing the group had been staying at was just on the edge of the forest, and the journey wasn’t anything too intense. 

 

\---------------

 

Barclay would really have rathered not stealing from the town they stumbled upon. But after constant reassurance from Indrid that the chance of being caught was slim: he fell in. It wasn’t anything too terribly bad, of course, but Barclay felt morally wrong. As an ex government official: he expected Indrid to feel the same. That, oddly, was not the case. It was all rations and items for disguise, that was a convincing enough reason to go through with the idiotic plan. 

 

A polka-dotted shirt, a floral patterned headband, and a dark pair of sunglasses were likely the most expensive things they’d found. Indrid seemed to spot out the headband a mile away, quickly stating that “the Dani girl foreseeably adores this”. Barclay had a soft spot for the younger people in the group, so he had no objections. By the time they hurried out of the town in a panic, they had a much better chance at survival in those woods. For now, at least. 

 

Upon returning, everyone was gifted a disguise of their own. Just as predicted: Dani absolutely adored the headband she was gifted. Infact: everyone seemed pretty alright with the items they had been given. Not to mention being thankful for the food they now had, something other than a squirrel or off deer. It was a big upgrade from just earlier that sunny Spring day.

 

In less than a day, they had gone from strangers to the embers of a family. 


	2. Scream Bloody Murder

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Indrid has a vision, and someone meets a steely fate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fuckin uhhhh, longfics r hard. I managed to crank out this baby in a day, and it's twice the length of the first chapter. The first chapter took me a week and a half.  
> So I changed the starting date of the fic to the early 40's. because i didn't want to wait too terribly long before I got to the cryptid stuff. I still have about two and a half decades before mama even comes into play, so.  
> Uh: Warning! Indrid kind of has a panic attack that I don't directly call a panic attack. Because they wouldn't know that's what it's called. There's also a pretty graphic depiction of death, someone bleeding out. Please be careful if you're sensitive!
> 
> (Also, AO3's formatting sucks a s s)

As the sun rose, Indrid Cold scrawled against his pale skin. A stolen fountain pen in his hand, it tapped fiercely against his skin. The pen left black spatters of ink against his forearm. Words, too sloppy for the average person to read, and sketches that should have been impossible to make stained onyx across almost translucent skin. Skin turned cherry in the view of his crimson glasses.

Everything that could be, will be, or may have been, in the near future was on that arm. Everything important that he could possibly fit was there, on that manufactured skin. At that point, it was far too early for anyone to normally be awake, however, Indrid tended to have more nocturnal tendencies. He wished to be prepared for absolutely any outcome. Of course: he also wished to not disturb anyone else there. 

Suddenly; he gasped- eyes going wide behind red lenses. Realizing quickly that he had no room left on his arm, the male pulled up a pant leg. No. No. He would  _ not _ let that happen. Absolutely not. Not in these woods, not in this place.  _ Never _ . His handwriting slowly grew more fervent as he detailed an image across his angular leg, breath quickening to an alarming pace. Indrid  _ wouldn’t _ let that happen. He  _ refused _ . No one was going to get hurt while they had a seer there. It was… it was unpreventable. No. No. Indrid wasn’t going to let anyone- no one was going to- 

Indrid wasn’t quite sure how much time had passed since he had started seeing it. All he knew was that a large hand placed itself onto his shoulder and he froze. Well, no, he didn’t freeze, not quite. He was shaking more than he knew possible thanks to the thin stature of his disguise. At the touch he did drop the pen he was holding, it laying uselessly on the grass next to him. Everything was… fuzzy. That was when Indrid realized that he had been crying. 

“Indrid…” spoke Barclay in a soft tone, gently turning the other male to face him.”What happened? Did you see something?”

While the shaking male had never been one to seek out affectionate touch, he wouldn’t shy away from it if it was something he received. Since Barclay was kneeling in the moment, Indrid pressed against him, a very gentle sob resonating from his lips. Despite the kneeling male being knocked back for a short moment, he wrapped his burly arms around the other.

Indrid gasped a breath, tensing before he muttered,” I, Barclay, dear every- dear everything. I-... I… something big, something big- i-it’s coming, and- oh there’s… nothing I can- I can’t  _ stop _ it! There’s no _ avoiding _ it! It’s- going to be  _ my _ fault, and-”

Barclay hushed him, rubbing his back gently in an effort to calm the poor male down. Barclay had never seen him like this. Sure, they hadn’t known one another for very long- but Indrid had always been very calm and collected. Contained in a way that he couldn’t possibly hope to understand. Biting down on his lip, he did his best to come up with what to say next. 

“You just see the future, it’s not your job to change it. If something bad’s comin’, we’ll just have to  **survive it** .” Indrid finished it with him, momentarily leaving a shock. 

“That’s…” the shaking man started,” That’s just the problem, really. ‘Surviving it’. Because, well… at least one of us won’t.”

That was the first time he saw the sketch covering the entirety of Indrid’s left calf. No part of it was good, not even remotely. It was a drawing of the clearing, a fallen tree making that clear, there was… something else too. Despite there being no colour, inked in splatters could be nothing other than blood. In the middle of the clearing was a… it was something. Clearly a weapon, something used for the pure purpose of harm. It had a grip for a hand, and a rod protruding from one side. Around the item there were small, arrow head shaped, pellets. 

He knew Indrid wasn’t a mind reader- however he quickly jumped in,” The… the humans- they call it a “gun”. It is used for one purpose, and one only… to, to shoot… to kill.”

Barclay’s blood ran cold in an instant. To kill? Was that truly the item Indrid had depicted -that ‘guns’ true purpose? For death and only that? Could someone really have manufactured something for that one, singular, use? 

“Indrid- I- what?...” he trailed off, breath catching on his tongue. 

“It happens before Noon.”

“What?”

“It’s either Wybie, one of the twins, or Jake.”

Once again, Barclay went cold. Wybie and Jake… they were easily the two youngest in the group. They had their entire lives ahead of them still. The thought of either of them,  _ any _ of them dying was horrifying. Completely, bone chillingly, horrifying. After they escaped the clutches of the Sylvains out to end them, he wasn’t keen on any of them dying. Not anytime soon.

“Shit Indrid.”

“ ‘Shit’ indeed,” he breathed. 

 

\---------------

 

After calming Indrid, both he and Barclay went and debriefed Theresa about the situation. She, being a much more strict type of person- instantly went into a protective mode. Mother-hen, how fitting. The three did their very best to keep the group calm. Due to their anxieties, all three were sure that someone would have caught on- but that didn’t seem to be the case.

It was just before noon. Possibly a quarter till. A quarter till a massacre. Fifteen minutes until someone would end up  _ dead _ . At most. It could easily start before. Before noon. People would die, without warning. Time was up. 

 

_ Time was up. _

 

It started, and there was no avoiding the bloodied outcome. 

There was a gruff shout in the distance, followed by a loud band. It was deafening. Birds crowed in the air, and the scattering of animals came clear. The first shout was followed by another, and one more after that. Three, then, right? There was there of them? If that first bang was any indicator they all could be carrying those guns.

All at once, every single one of the Sylvs there froze. The group of a dozen moved closer together, the eldest three shielding the younger ones. They couldn’t help but pay special attention to the four who’d been the most likely to die. Die. Someone wasn’t going to make it out of this alive, and only three of them knew that.

It was only a minute before three hunters(?) barged into the clearing, all wielding different versions of those guns. One of them, however, was exactly the one Indrid had pictured. He, Barclay, and Theresa glanced over to one another at the realization. Twenty four eyes stared over to the three men before them, panic laced in every dilated pupil. Barclay pushed the younger kids behind him, taking a breath.

Before he got a chance to speak: Theresa cut in,” We don’t mean any of you any harm! We’re simply a group of… campers, here for the lovely spring season.”

“Don’t shoot…” Barclay muttered softly. 

And then they shot. Time stopped. 

Time stopped for maybe a moment, and then the still was broken by a horrible scream. No. Male, male voice. Three of them were male. Heads whipped back as a female voice cried out.  _ No _ . A- a twin. It was one of the twins. Both of them? There was only one shot.

They were met by a horrifying sight. Nick -one of the twins- was slumped, clutching tightly to his sister. Crimson spilled from his chest, staining his yellow shirt a deep orange. And, fuck, there was so much blood. Human bodies bled easy, it- it didn’t make sense, really. There was so much for such a small form. 

Oh, and the  _ screams _ . The pure agony such a young person was going through was horrifying. No one healed, there was nothing to do. Nick was going to die, and Nat was going to loose her brother. The person who she had known her entire life.

Theresa didn’t even hesitate. In less than three minutes; the three men laid dead in the clearing. None of the Sylvs were dead quite yet, but poor Nick was on the forest floor, blood pooling around his form. His eyes were dull, yet he sputtered and grabbed for his sisters hand. That sister took his hands in hers. Tears, sobbing, wouldn’t stop to be brave, though. Someone was dying in front of her! In front of all of them! Nat’s brother was dying, slowly and painfully. 

“No… no no no… Nick, Nick just- just hang on…” Nat squeezed her brothers hands, tears bubbling from her eyes as she held onto him.

Nick coughed, wincing sharply, before weakly muttering,” They… almost got ya’ Nat. What kinda bro would I be if I didn’t… keep you safe?”

“You’re an idiot-” she squeaked out, behind faint wimpers. 

No one else could do anything but watch. Watch as someone died, as someone lost their brother. Some of the younger of them, turned away. Some of them sniffled and tried to hide tears. Death was such a horrifying thing to witness… but less than a week after they had opened up to each other… one of them was dying. Bleeding out, from a wound to deep for any of them to help. 

Nick sputtered once again, eyes dulling even more,” Yeah… Y-yeah, maybe I am…”

Just like that: he was dead. Dead and gone, a warm corpse on the ground. Nat let out the most heart-wrenching scream imaginable, so full of mourning and loss that it inspired the same feeling around. Dani was the first to react, shockingly. The blonde wrapped the sobbing girl into a tight hug. It was clear that she was an empath, as Dani had broken out into fitful sobbing as well.

Of course, Indrid had been mortified the whole time. He couldn’t prevent the death. Someone was going to die, it was unavoidable. For once, he was powerless to stop the course of fate. Death was that outcome. He refused to let anymore innocents die in that moment. He vowed to keep people safe.

“We… we should give him a proper burial…” muttered the youngest of the group: Wybie.

“Yeah,” Dani nodded, still holding tight onto Nat. 

Barclay and Indrid exchanged glances. That task would fall onto them, almost certainly. To dig a grave. Setting a dead man into the ground. Indrid was sure that Theresa would offer to assist, but Barclay was stubborn. And him? Well, he felt it was the least he could do. He couldn’t stop the death, so he could at least pay tribute to the deceased’s life. 

 

\---------------

 

Death hung heavy in the air, as the group (now eleven) carried on. Three men’s blood were on their hands, they could no longer stay in the clearing. Not even if they wanted to. Theresa wanted to split into groups, but Barclay downright refused. The youngest two of them all, Jake and Wybie, had taken to hesitantly stick close to one another. They seemed to have a natural sort of chemistry. Which was good, at least a few people deserve to feel okay after everything. 

Dani was still clinging onto Nat, claiming it was for support. That made sense, as Nat had downright refused to speak since the death of her twin. Nobody blamed her. Several understood the grief of losing someone. They all knew the pain of losing everything. 

It was an awful time trying to find somewhere safe to stay. They could never stay anywhere too long, as they found that they couldn’t stray to far from the port in which they arrived. Which, for some odd reason, was shifting location constantly. Indrid claimed that it was an uncommon occurrence, then Theresa supplied that it was due to, well, them in a way. People leaving it so much more often. Which he solemnly agreed with. 

They chased the portal to their home for days. Then those days turned to weeks. Weeks turned to months. One month became six; and then twelve. A year. Then another.The group was on the run for three years.

 

1948.

 

_ The first sighting of the ThunderBird. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uh... yeah! So that was- this chapter.  
> There was actually only one character I totally forgot to write about in this chapter. The Missouri Monster. oops. 
> 
> All of the living OCs are going to be important btw! Wybie especially. He's a cryptid known as a "White Thing" or "Demon Dog". Go ahead and look up what the relevance between these three things is:  
> White Things, Mothman, and Silver Bridge.  
> ;)  
> As always: don't forget to leave me some feedback! Anything is good on my end!

**Author's Note:**

> So, they arrive in the early 40’s bc I can’t be assed to do it earlier. The earliest big sighting for any of the three most important cryptids in this story is 1948. Also Mama won’t come in until the late 70’s. I’m sayin’ she was born around ‘62. “Local 15-Year-Old Saves Some Dumb Cryptids”
> 
> Anyways! I really really hope you like the first part of this long ass fuckin story I'm planning. Don't be scared to leave a comment telling me what you thought! No matter good or bad, I appreciate the feedback.


End file.
